


Breathing Through the Pain

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: fan_flashworks, Crying, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Men Crying, Minor Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, Post-Battle, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Shock, Vomiting, crycuddles, it's a thing trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: The Battle of Endor is won, the second Death Star destroyed, but at a terrible price.





	Breathing Through the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Submitted for fan_flashworks prompt "reflect" and fan_flashworks bingo prompt "breakdown."

Endor’s forest moon is quiet once you get far enough away from the celebration. Wedge leans heavily on a wooden railing and gazes into the dark, trying to let the soft night sounds of birds and insects envelop him. Trying to send his mind to anything but the image that keeps playing over and over in his mind.

Leia’s face when he landed from victory over the Death Star II. Big blue eyes filled with tears, and not of joy.

The panic had hit Wedge instantly as he swept his gaze around, desperately trying to determine who hadn’t made it back from her side of the mission. A group of commandos was present, both familiar faces and not. Han stepped forward, grim-faced, and took Leia’s hand.

Wedge’s stomach dropped. No–

“Luke was on the Death Star,” Leia whispered.

Wedge closes his eyes, hands spasming on the railing. He still can’t believe it.

Luke Skywalker is dead. Wedge destroyed the Death Star while he was still aboard.

Wedge killed him.

Wedge's stomach rolls, his face twisting. He wishes he could cry. Or scream. Do _something_ to let out the mess of feelings swirling within him, but can't. He's stuck in shock, unable to get past the cold, stabbing clarity of what he's done.

There's movement on the walkway behind him, and Wedge tries to gather himself before turning. He really doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. He needs time. He doesn't have any words.

But he makes himself turn, because Wedge has always been good at doing what he has to. He's not surprised to see Wes, Hobbie, and Tycho standing there. Their faces are cast in shadow from the distance fires and the lack of lanterns here, but he can imagine well enough the looks they're giving him.

No one speaks for long moments, then finally, it's Wes who breaks the standoff by moving forward and pulling Wedge into a hug before he can react. “There was no way you could have known.”

Wedge stays rigid against him as much as he wants to melt into the embrace. If he accepts comfort, he'll crack. He doesn't deserve it.

“Luke knew the risks when he went up there with the battle coming, Wedge,” Hobbie says. “He would tell you the same thing.”

Wedge has to look away. It doesn't matter what Luke would have said. Luke is gone. He's never going to say anything again. He's never going to smile or swing his lightsaber or fly an X-wing ever again, and it's Wedge fault. The brightest light in the galaxy, and Wedge snuffed it.

Abruptly, he whirls and vomits over the railing, acid burning his throat. It's been too long since he's eaten, he realizes dully. The thought of ever eating again is laughable.

“Easy,” Tycho voice filters in a few moments later along with a warm, solid hand rubbing circles on Wedge's back. “You're all right.”

“No.” Wedge's voice is tiny and cracked.

“Listen to us,” Wes insists, voice a little louder now. “This wasn't your fault. Luke made his choice. He very well could have died on the surface if he hadn't gone. Hell, even if it _was_ you, Lando was there too.”

Wedge startles. Lando. “Where...?” he manages.

“Back at the party,” Wes answers. “He feels awful, too, but he knows today was a victory.”

“He wanted to come after you,” Hobbie adds, “but we knew you’d rather be alone.”

“You three are still here,” Wedge points out mechanically.

Tycho's hands move to brace his shoulders. “What one wants isn’t always what they need.”

Wedge bows his head, lips trembling. He's being selfish. Luke was their friend, too. Leia's friend. Han's. What right does he have to this grief, especially with what happened? Just because he and Luke had always been so close, just because he'd been starting to wonder if after the war was over, they might...

But no. None of that matters. It's as dead and gone as Luke.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tycho insists. “You did your duty, Wedge. You destroyed that weapon before it could hurt anyone else.”

“But if I'd known–”

“You would have let it go?” Tycho goes on mercilessly. “Let it escape to destroy who knows how many planets? Luke wouldn't have wanted that. He would have understood the stakes.”

“Enough,” Hobbie says, stepping forward to put a placating hand on both of their arms. “What ifs aren't going to do us any good. We all lost a friend today; we're all hurting. That should be bringing us together.”

“You're right.” Tycho sighs and rubs his eyes before looking at Wedge again. “I'm sorry.”

Wedge bows his head and nods, tears threatening. He knows Tycho is right. Luke would have willingly sacrificed himself for the greater good. Any of them would. That doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't stop the guilt Wedge already knows he'll carry forever. It doesn't stop him worrying for the fate of the galaxy. Luke was the last of Jedi. What does that mean for the future?

Suddenly overwhelmed, he collapses forward into Tycho's chest, sobs shaking his body. Wedge can't change any of it. He can't bring back what's been lost, for himself or his friends or the entire galaxy. Even trying to divorce himself from it as the cause, he can barely breathe through the pain.

“I've got you,” Tycho murmurs, and his arms come around Wedge strong and tight even as his voice breaks. A heartbeat later, Wes and Hobbie are there, too, the four of them tied in a knot of shared grief and hopefully offered and desperately accepted comfort.

They stay that way for what feels like a long time. Wedge lets his mind drift in the warmth of the night and his friends' arms. He's not okay. He knows he won't be for a long time. He knows he'll try to do everything he can to make up for what he's done, even if they insist he has nothing to atone for.

And he knows what he has to do now.

He pulls his heavy head from Tycho's shoulder and murmurs roughly, “We should go back to the party.”

That's what they always do. Celebrate life first, the warriors who survive to carry on the fight, and honor their fallen comrades after. More grief can come tomorrow. And it will. But for now, at least, Wedge can try to appreciate the victory they've won today.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Wes sniffles, wraps an arm around Wedge's waist, and starts to lead him back toward the distant bonfires.

“The jet juice was just coming out when we left,” Tycho volunteers.

“The Ewoks had some kind of berry whine that seemed pretty strong,” Hobbie muses. “Maybe we can get Wedge to dance.”

Wedge laughs wetly and promises to try. A stiff drink does sound good.

Later, he'll sit beside Lando, and they'll discuss their Death Star run over a pair of glasses, both what they won and what they lost. Wedge will pretend he doesn't see the tears in Lando's dark eyes while realizing he understands better than anyone

Later still, Wes will find Wedge by himself in a shadowed corner, melancholy again, and quietly tell him the story of Kissek Doran. Wedge will look on him with new eyes and renewed brotherhood.

Above all, Wedge will end the night knowing however much he still hurts, he's not alone.


End file.
